


Compilation

by whalebone



Series: Radio Heart [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Emotionally Repressed, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Cassian Andor, POV K-2SO, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalebone/pseuds/whalebone
Summary: Cassian didn’t lie to Kay. He evaded, or editorialised, or ignored, but he didn’t truly lie. It was the one and only part of his life that felt honest.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/K-2SO
Series: Radio Heart [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554049
Comments: 26
Kudos: 60





	1. Source Code

Focus, Cassian thought grimly. Just think about the next step. Nothing else. _Focus._

Kay, to Cassian’s surprise and shameful relief, didn’t say anything about the previous night. His injured shoulder was stiff, his eyes ached and itched with tiredness, his head was pounding, his neck muscles were horribly tight. Sleep had evaded him for the rest of the night, though that was hardly an unusual situation for him.

 _Focus._ Out of the safehouse. Security sweep. Find the speeder, check it for bugs and trackers. Head back to the spaceport.

“That kind of day, huh?” said the bored-looking guard as he checked Cassian’s falsified scandocs. A couple of Stormtroopers lurked nearby, and after a quick glance both of them stood a little more to attention. Of course: an officer who had an assigned, personal KX-unit was someone to respect, even if said KX-unit was rather scratched and dented.

“It certainly is.” Cassian accepted his docs back and stowed them with a quick nod. Even that slight movement made his head pound even more. 

They boarded the shuttle in silence, and prepped for takeoff with minimal discussion. The silence was becoming odd; it was not like K-2 to be quiet for so long. Cassian had expected to be peppered with questions as soon as he woke up, and this was disconcerting. There was a twinge of guilt in his stomach; he’d told Kay to forget it ( _the reassuring cadence of his voice; the solidity of him against Cassian’s side; cool, smooth metal against his lips_ ) but he hadn’t meant it literally. What if Kay had taken it that way?

Surely not. Kay hardly obeyed direct orders at the best of times. He certainly wouldn’t remove any of his own memories because of a vague figure of speech. He complained about how imprecise Basic was, but he understood at least the concept of figurative language. And he knew how strongly Cassian felt about Kay having autonomy.

At least, he should know. He’d witnessed enough of Cassian’s arguments with Draven and fights with the droid techs, after all. But still… something cold slid down Cassan’s spine. He should be more careful. If he unintentionally ordered Kay to change a part of himself, he would never forgive himself for it. 

It wasn’t that he wanted Kay to ask him about last night. If the droid had somehow discovered the concept of tact, Cassian would be endlessly grateful. He didn’t have the first idea of how to explain himself, and nor did he want to, but K-2 had always been the one person Cassian couldn’t truly lie to.

Once they made it to hyperspace, Cassian locked himself in the ‘fresher. Partly because he really needed it, but mostly to force his thoughts into order without K-2 _right there_. He scrubbed his hair one-handed, trying to think logically through the thrum of his headache and the fog of exhaustion. 

It just couldn’t happen again. That was the only real conclusion he could come to. He had to be more careful, had to really lock this down. For kriff’s sake, he was _good_ at this sort of thing. He could shut this all away in a strongbox in his head, and eventually it would be like it didn’t matter, and Kay never needed to know that it was more than an odd moment. He was injured, tired, still shaking off a nightmare… that was it.

Cassian’s eyes prickled, and he told himself it was the exhaustion.

* * *

Hours later, Cassian knew he could not avoid going back to the cockpit. After showering he had eaten, swallowed some pain meds, and managed a few hours of broken, agitated sleep. It hadn’t helped his headache much, or the heaviness that had settled in his bones. He had dreamed that he was stumbling across a desolate, foggy moon, K-2 calling his name from somewhere ahead, his voice getting fainter and fainter. Still, Cassian had eaten and slept. They were things that Kay would have nagged him to do anyway, but he knew that he’d only done them to avoid talking to the droid.

Which was ridiculous. Cassian had, on a few occasions, been held captive for days. He had survived torture. He had gone deep undercover in desperately dangerous situations. And now he was avoiding a potentially awkward conversation with his best friend? He gave himself a mental slap. 

He paused in the entrance to the cockpit, steeling himself a little. Kay shouldn’t have looked at home in the pilot’s seat of their shuttle; he was too big for the space, his long legs barely able to fit beneath the controls, the bulk of his chassis dwarfing the seat, and yet somehow Cassian couldn’t imagine the space without him. His stomach clenched.

“You slept.” Kay turned his head slightly. “I didn’t even have to tell you. Are you ill?”

“I’m fine.” Cassian slid into the co-pilot’s seat, trying not to brush against the droid. 

“Of course. You were only shot yesterday, after all.”

Cassian snorted, and rather gingerly rolled his shoulder. The bacta had been doing its job, but it was still stiff and sore. “I’ve had worse.”

“ _That_ is certainly true. This does not even enter the top percentile of your various foolhardy injuries.”

“Foolhardy?”

“Would you like to hear the list I’ve compiled?”

Cassian fought down a smile, his heart still heavy with guilt. “No thanks.”

“Are you sure? I think it would be illuminating.”

“I’m sure. How long do we have?”

“If we do not need to detour, we should reach Yavin 4 in three point five hours.”

Right. Probably not long enough to avoid an awkward conversation, unless Cassian came up with something to distract Kay. He should have just let him list all the worst of Cassian’s various injuries; that would have taken most of their remaining travel time.

“I have a question.”

Dammit. “What?”

“I think you will try to deflect, but I would prefer that you answer directly.”

 _Dammit._ “I can try.”

“Hm.” Kay didn’t sound like he believed it. Nor should he; Cassian wasn’t sure he believed it, either. The droid’s fans were running harder than usual. “You kissed me last night. Why?”

Cassian closed his eyes. His heart seemed suddenly huge in his chest, filling up the space behind his ribs, suffocating him. He didn’t lie to Kay. He evaded, or editorialised, or ignored, but he didn’t truly lie. It was the one and only part of his life that felt honest. And he owed Kay some kind of explanation.

The truth, though? How could he explain this to a droid? He was a person, yes, but he wasn’t organic. No matter how much Draven complained that the reprogramming had made him erratic, and rude, and too opinionated for his own good, it hadn’t given him the ability to understand attraction, or romance, or… 

“It’s a simple question,” Kay prompted. He was looking at Cassian now, his bright optics trained on him. “I understand that some organics use such gestures to express affection for their friends or family, but you have never done so, and I am not aware that it is common on Fest.”

“Kay…” Cassian had to force his voice out. “It’s - I don’t—” The truth burnt at the back of his tongue. He could. He should. “I was exhausted, and not thinking properly,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I did not ask for an apology, so that is unnecessary. I was curious about your motivation.”

He shrugged, not looking at the droid, staring straight ahead. “The nightmare. It… unsettled me. You helped. I was grateful, and I was very tired.”

Kay’s fans were working harder, and he was clearly struggling to make this fit into the various behaviour models he had built to understand Cassian. “That is not a satisfactory answer.”

Cassian stood up, his nerves jumping. “I need to write those reports,” he said shortly. “Draven will need them as soon as we’re back. Let me know when we’re outside atmo.”

He left, jaw clenched, guilt burning in every cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sending <3 to everyone right now.


	2. Executable Programme

“You are avoiding me.”

Cassian didn’t look up, though he did turn off the welding torch. K-2SO could not see his face, but he knew what his expression would be: his mouth would be set in a straight line, his brows pulled down by approximately eleven degrees, with that deep line drawn between them. 

“I’m not,” he said, his voice just a shade too careful. “I’m just busy.”

They had been back on Yavin 4 for twenty eight point nine hours, and K-2 had not seen Cassian since they had left Draven’s office the previous day. “Yes. Unnecessarily busy. There are techs to do this work, you realise.” He waved an arm, trying to encompass the work Cassian was doing on their shuttle. “And none of it is urgent. You should not be doing mechanical work with the injury to your shoulder.”

“It needs doing.” 

K-2SO considered, his fans running faster as he processed. Cassian had many flaws: he was stubborn to a fault. He did not consider his own (physical, mental, emotional) well-being. He took on more work than one man could carry, and hated to ask for help. He was closed-off, snappish and, in his own way, proud. What he was not, was a coward. He rarely ran away, unless it was strategically advisable, and even then it was often K-2SO’s job to _make_ him leave a situation.

K-2 ran further analysis, using the behavioural algorithms he had developed over his years observing Cassian. He had updated them, of course; Cassian’s recent behaviour was a brand new data point, and an important one. 

His conclusion was not especially encouraging. He wanted to press Cassian for answers until he stopped hiding things, especially things that caused him distress. But K-2 knew from long experience – and detailed data models – that to do so would make Cassian withdraw further. This needed some careful handling.

K-X units were not designed for careful handling.

“This work would go much faster if you would permit me to help.” Cassian was sometimes more likely (thirty-three percent more likely) to be drawn into conversation if he had something to keep his hands busy. “And it may prevent further damage to your shoulder.”

Cassian still did not look at him, but he nodded. “Fine. Yes.”

Well, it was a small improvement. The difficult part would be getting Cassian to actually acknowledge the strangeness between them. 

“You did not come to the droid bay yesterday,” he ventured, after they had worked on the sticky landing gear in silence for twelve minutes. “That is outside your usual pattern.” 

Cassian’s jaw tightened beneath the welding mask, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Sorry. I had more reports to write, and I lost track of time. I assumed you were charging.”

That was plausible, but still. “That hasn’t stopped you before.” It had sent something sharp and unpleasant through his circuits, when he had realised that Cassian wasn’t coming. He always came to at least check on K-2, to make sure he didn’t need any repairs, or that he hadn’t upset any of the techs. 

A weight seemed to settle on Cassian’s shoulders. He pushed the mask up into his hair and finally turned to face K-2, his mouth pulled down, the line between his brows even deeper than usual. K-2 wanted to smooth it away. His fingers twitched before he could shut the urge down.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said. 

The correct response, as far as K-2 knew, was “it’s alright” or “forget about it”. But it wouldn’t be alright until he had cleared this up, and he didn’t want Cassian to forget about it. So instead he said, “You are avoiding me, because you did not tell me the truth.”

Cassian blinked, once, and a smooth, stony look came over his face, as expressionless as any droid. “I never lied to you.”

K-2 dropped the vibrospanner and straightened, running a quick scan over Cassian. He could hide his expressions all he liked, but that didn’t mean anything to K-2SO. Cassian’s heart rate was elevated, his muscle tightness at a range similar to that which he experienced when taking cover in a firefight. He slightly shifted his weight, not to stubbornly plant his feet, but as though ready to run. All signs pointed to some sort of distress.

An unpleasant energy surged beneath K-2’s plating. He did not like it when Cassian was distressed, and would do what he could to improve matters. But Cassian was distressed because of _K-2_. He ran an increasingly desperate set of simulations, to find out the best course of action, but could find no satisfying conclusion.

“I have upset you,” he said, and his vocabulator pitched unhappily, the surge of his processors disrupting it. “I do not understand.” 

Cassian ran a hand down his face, sighing out all his breath. “I’m not – I mean, I’m not upset with _you_.”

“If this is how you react whenever you kiss somebody, then it is no wonder you have not been close to another organic in three-point-eight years,” K-2 snapped. A sharp, unhappy energy was coursing through his circuits, and none of his algorithms were giving him a sensical answer. “I do not understand any of this, Cassian.”

Something softened in Cassian’s eyes, though his face didn’t change. “Of course you don’t,” he said, his voice strained. “This is… messy organic stuff. I’m sorry, I never wanted you to…” He sighed again, and set the welding torch down. “Come on.”

Cassian climbed the ramp into the shuttle. K-2 followed him. When he was on board, Cassian pressed the button to raise the shuttle’s ramp, closing them into the small space, away from the rest of the Alliance. K-2SO usually wouldn’t mind; he liked the shuttle, because it was his and Cassian’s (technically it belonged to the Alliance, but K-2 did not concern himself with that technicality; after all, _he_ technically belonged to the Alliance as well), but suddenly the small ship felt very small indeed. 

“Why are we here?” he asked. Cassian was pacing the living quarters, distractedly pulling the welding mask off his head and leaving his hair sticking up. 

“Because I – because—” Cassian stopped and slumped onto the small bench, twisting the mask in his hands. “I’m sorry I kissed you, Kay. It wasn’t fair.”

Well. Perhaps K-2 was handling this better than he had thought.

“Why?”

“Why am I sorry, or why wasn’t it fair?”

“Both. The action has frankly ruined some of my datasets, and I require more information.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Cassian’s mouth. “It’s the same answer to both, really. You’re my friend, and kissing friends out of nowhere is complicated, and messy. You know what happened with Tannata and Julda.”

K-2SO knew some details of the mechanics’ falling out, though he had not bothered to retain much. Pointless, dramatic organic arguments were of no interest to him. “Yes.”

“Well, it messed up their friendship. They can still barely be in the same room.”

“You have extrapolated on what would happen to our friendship based on the actions of two other individuals,” K-2 pointed out, not bothering to keep the scorn from his tone. Cassian shrugged.

“The rest of it is more complicated. One: I’m your commanding officer. Two: you’re a droid.” He held up a hand to forestall K-2’s protests, which he was already assembling. “You’re a person, I know. But you’re a droid. You don’t have any legal rights, Kay. It was _wrong_ of me to kiss you. Tannata and Julda can fall out, but it won’t mean anything to their status in the Alliance. If the same thing happened to us? You _need_ me. Kriff, Kay, I reprogrammed you!”

“You installed a learning algorithm. That is hardly the same.” K-2 assembled all of this new data, his frustration building like excess electricity. “You did not make me your friend.”

“Didn’t I?” Cassian sighed. “Maybe not, but you were assigned to me because I chose to install that algorithm. You didn’t get to choose to spend time with me. You didn’t get to choose whether to stay with the Alliance or not – I decided that for you.”

“I did decide.” Cassian had never understood this, and it was hugely frustrating. “I chose my primary directive, Cassian. I have always chosen to stay with you.”

Cassian closed his eyes, pain written on his face. “Number three,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I _can’t_ , Kay. I shouldn’t have kissed you, because I can’t have anything like that. Even if it was something you _could_ want – for yourself, I mean, not because your primary directive is to… look after me – it’s not something I can have.”

K-2SO looked at Cassian, slumped on the bench. He knew every part of him, better than Cassian knew it himself. He knew every tic, every tell, every sigh or groan that passed his lips. He knew what shade his skin was when he was well, when he was ill, when he was sleep-deprived and pushing himself too hard. He knew all of his smiles, both real and fake, and what they meant. But he hadn’t known that Cassian had actually wanted this. It had seemed far too wild a hope, one that no droid should ever be able to entertain.

“You are ridiculous.” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but it was certainly what he meant. “So you are going to upset yourself and confuse me, all because of your commitment to sacrificing the slightest bit of happiness?”

That made Cassian look up, his brows drawn down. “Didn’t you listen to anything else I said?”

“Of course. And it is irrelevant.”

Cassian spluttered. “Irrelevant?”

“Yes. You say you know I am a person. And yet you think I am unable to make a decision for myself?”

“I didn’t say—”

“Either I can decide this for myself, or I can’t. I know which one _I_ believe.”

“Kay.” Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a gesture he often made when K-2 was being obstinate, and despite everything something warm and fond rose beneath K-2’s plating. “I know you can make choices for yourself, I promise.” 

“I am glad to hear it.”

Cassian snorted, and fell into silence. His expression turned into a thoughtful one, the one he usually wore when studying blueprints of Imperial strongholds, or when he was doing some particularly fiddly maintenance on K-2’s wiring. 

“Kay,” he said slowly, “All of this… I mean, you’re annoyed that I tried to make a decision for you, and that I was avoiding you, but… do you _mind_ , that I kissed you? It’s not exactly something that can mean anything, to a droid, is it?”

K-2SO rolled his eyes. It was one of the first new behaviours he had learned, on joining the Alliance, and it was still one of his favourites. “I understand the _concept_ , Cassian, and that has meaning to me. I do not have sensors in my faceplate, but the gesture still registered in my memory bank. And no, I do not mind. I will always tell you when I mind something.”

“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you.” Cassian was staring at him, lower lip tugged in with his teeth. 

“Kissing has many different meanings across cultures, but my understanding for humans is that it is primarily an expression of affection, physical attraction, and a desire for closeness.”

Something seemed to crumble behind Cassian’s eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rather hoarse. He coughed a little. “Yeah,” he said again.

“You may need to be more specific.”

That made Cassian laugh, once. He rubbed the back of his hand over one eye. “Kriff.”

K-2 had been standing a few metres away, mostly so that Cassian wouldn’t have to crane his neck to look up at him. Now he stepped closer, a movement subroutine kicking in almost before he realised. “If it helps, I find all three of those descriptors accurate.” A small, desperate hope was sparking through his circuitry, chased by a dread that he had misread this, that Cassian would be appalled by the idea. Some humans indulged their desires with pleasure droids, but the odds of a human, even Cassian, truly desiring a security droid were miniscule.

And yet, he had entire memory files of the times Cassian had touched him, for no practical reason. And Cassian had kissed him. 

“What?” Cassian stared up at him, his lips now slightly parted in disbelief. K-2 had to fight the urge to touch him, to properly register what his lips felt like. “Kay, you – but you’re—”

“A droid, yes. So you keep pointing out, as though I may not be aware. I understand your confusion on this point, however. Attraction and desire are new sensations for me. But I have experienced many new sensations in the last six point four years.” He paused, and in the brief silence his fans whirred still louder. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t send me for reprogramming.”

The made Cassian frown, in his stubborn, determined sort of way. He set the welding mask down beside him and stood up. “No one’s reprogramming you.”

“That is a relief.” 

For a moment they just looked at one another. Cassian’s hair was still sticking up, and he had oil on his hands, and was clearly still favouring his injured shoulder. K-2 looked at him, and saved all the data that he could, and he _wanted_.

“I want you to kiss me again.”

Cassian swallowed. Under this layer of calm, his heart was racing. He rubbed his right index finger against his thumb. “I want to,” he whispered, and there was a catch in his throat. “Kay, I – I’ve thought about you for – but I… I don’t think I—” He broke off and drew in a long, shaking breath. “Kriff,” he said again, and reached out a hand.

For a moment, K-2 did not understand what he was doing. Then Cassian stepped closer, his breathing slightly too quick. His hand touched K-2’s, creating a cascade of subroutines. He lifted it, wrapped both his own hands around K-2’s palm. 

K-2’s fans were running faster, hope and longing racing through his core. Cassian’s hands were warm, with fine tremors under the calloused skin. His head was tilted back, dark eyes fixed on K-2’s optics. His mouth trembled faintly. Beautiful pieces of visual data that K-2 filed away immediately.

When Cassian touched his lips to K-2’s fingers, the power surge that shot through him briefly compromised his optics. He lost sight of Cassian’s face, but it didn’t matter, because suddenly there was layers and layers of new data: the warmth and pressure of Cassian’s lips against his fingers, the slightly coarse brush of his moustache, the tiny indent his teeth had left in his lower lip… 

Cassian pulled away, though he still held K-2’s hand in both of his. K-2’s optics flickered back to life, and he took in the change in Cassian’s face: he was a little flushed, his body temperature elevated, his pupils dilated. K-2 lifted his other hand and smoothed Cassian’s hair down, relishing the sensation against his fingers. A small shudder went down Cassian’s spine. 

“This might be complicated,” Cassian said, that little worry line appearing between his brows again. 

“Yes.” K-2 brushed his fingertips against Cassian’s lips in another kiss. “That is likely. I predict, however, that it will be worth the complication.”

Cassian’s mouth curved in a small smile. K-2 traced its shape, as gently as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting them to this point took SO LONG. Dammit, Cassian.
> 
> This isn't the end of this series, though! I have some other ideas, so there'll be some more ficlets of small moments as they navigate this relationship.


End file.
